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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474661">macaroni art</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cldstrf/pseuds/cldstrf'>cldstrf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Night In The Woods (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:34:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>729</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474661</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cldstrf/pseuds/cldstrf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"i have a project for us!"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mae Borowski/Bea Santello</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>macaroni art</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“This is so stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not as stupid as your face,” Mae says, earning an eye roll from Bea. “Come on. You agreed!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know I did, and I’m starting to regret it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Macaroni art. Who could possibly guess that Mae would be able to convince her, of all people, to join in something so... lame. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I could be working.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know you’d do anything if it meant getting out of there for a couple hours.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A beat. “Point taken.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bea looks over to the sheet of paper Mae had been working on, though there was hardly anything on it. A splotch of glue covered in glitter in each corner, two round… somethings at the bottom of the page. Whatever that was supposed to be.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not even taking it seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you are?” Mae retorts, but when she looks down at Bea’s page, she sees that she’s working on a face. A peculiar face. One that looks familiar but that she can’t quite put her finger on. “I guess you are. See? I knew you’d have fun!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fun is a loose term.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, come on. Don’t play so hard to get, I know you’re enjoying yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you figure?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re spending time with me!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bea doesn’t say anything but rolls her eyes again, looking back down to her paper. She was slow going at it, as she was giving the occasional, discreet glance over to Mae as she did it. She had to get the facial features right, after all. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, yeah.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She knows it’s kind of embarrassing to do her own art of her friend’s face, but what else was there to do? She was fascinating, even if the medium was macaroni art.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As such, she doesn’t spend too much time focusing on what Mae was doing with her sheet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were in her room, her mom’s old records playing in the background as they sat at a shoddy desk against the wall. Her room was still bare, but that was to be expected by now. She was still hoping to leave whenever she could. Mae has long since stopped pointing it out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you staying for dinner?” Bea asks, and Mae hums as though she hadn’t even thought about it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can. If you want to see me that badly.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, whatever. You invited yourself here.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That I did!” Mae says, obviously pleased with the fact. “You let me in.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not that much of an ass to send you back out when you took the trek over here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t call it a trek. You know this place is like, small as hell, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, trust me. I’m aware.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mae goes quiet for a while, staring down at her paper before she just as quietly goes back to gluing pieces onto the sheet. Bea doesn’t know what to say herself, not having expected Mae to back down so easily, and does the same.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>About a half hour passes before Mae sits up straight, covering her picture with her hands and looks over to Bea with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Bea knows she should be worried, but she simply shakes her head. “Are you done?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmmmhm. Are you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just about.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. On three?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bea picks up her paper, waiting for Mae to do the same and on the count of three, they swap their art to each other.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bea had made an image of Mae’s face, which surprised nobody except for Mae herself, who makes a pleased noise as she carefully holds it to her chest. “Aww! I love it!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mae, on the other hand... </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this... a dick?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mae laughs loudly, enough to make Bea shush her by putting a hand to her mouth with a furrow of her brows. “Don’t you like it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know? Can’t say I do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>WIth another snicker, Mae reaches over, nuzzling her nose against Bea’s cheek before pressing a kiss to her temple. “Well, I’ll make a better one next time for you then.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bea sighs, setting her gifted art onto the table and looking to Mae with a playfully scolding expression on her face. “You’re a real piece of work, Borowski.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Like you aren’t, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Santello.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m really not.” Despite this, she reaches over, putting an arm around Mae’s shoulders to pull her in close. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, whatever. Even if I am, you still like me. ...Right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”</span>
</p>
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